#but being forced to recover if I decide to quit is scarier

[makkie-is-screaming]

think I’m gonna have to try and recover from my ed because I haven’t had my period since the first week of December and googling amenorrhea is scaring the shit out of me

[anythingwriter]

Badassery

Thomas Shelby x reader

Warnings: language, Oswald Mosley, teeny tiny bit of sexual assault, implied smut if you squint, small bit of angst

Word count: 1,988 of pure trash:)

Requested by: anonymous 🐆

Summary: At one of Tommy’s famous parties, he sees his wife being hit on by the one and only Oswald Mosley. On his way to save her he stops in his tracks, shocked by how she handled things.

*******************************************************

Y/n Shelby was definitely a force to be reckoned with. While most men and women cleared a path when they saw Tommy coming, they’d clear the whole damn street when they saw her. She was unpredictable and even scarier than Arthur doped up on his snow.

Oh and her looks, she was one of the most beautiful gems Small Heath had ever seen. The men all wanted a taste of her, and the women strived to be her. She knew she was beautiful, and she walked with her head held high in confidence. Most importantly, she knew she could take care of herself. Apparently though, her husband did not.

It was a Friday evening and naturally your husband had decided to throw a party. People from the richest of families were there, wanting to see how the Thomas Shelby lived.

You and Tommy were in the corner conversing amongst yourselves, laughing at the guest and their ridiculous outfits, and Charlie was upstairs with the maids, hopefully asleep by now. Tommy had gone for a normal suit, his ocean eyes standing out against the deep black. You had chosen a beautiful burgundy dress with a daring plunge in the neck, accompanied by a jaw dropping diamond necklace Tommy had given you for your three year anniversary. The dress hugged you perfectly, showing off your best assets. Tommy couldn’t tear his eyes off of you.

“Tommy, look at Mrs.Evans! Sh- she looks like she has a dog wrapped around her neck!” You bent over laughing, having to put a hand on your knee to stop yourself from falling flat out on the floor, almost spilling your wine in the process. Her scarf was obnoxiously large and fluffy, and you couldn’t get enough of it.

Tommy looked over as well, and he chuckled at the sight, nowhere near laughing as hard as you. It was safe to say you were a little more on the tipsier side. He reached down his ring clad hand and grabbed your wine, “that’s enough for you love,” and he put it on the passing butlers tray, mumbling a small thanks in the process.

You straightened back out and looked up at Tommy and gave him the biggest puppy eyes you could muster, you were not done with your wine and you wanted it back.

“Bu-“

“No buts darling, you wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of all these people, right?. Maybe wait until it’s just me and you, yeah? Sound good?” You weakly nodded your head to Tommy, knowing there was no way you were going to win this debate.

“Tommy?”

He turned to look at you, “yes darling?”

You stared at him with the best serious face you could possibly offer in your given state, “ You- you said butts!” You doubled back over again laughing your ass off. It truly wasn’t that funny, but you felt like a damn comedian at this point. Tommy gave you one of his famous “bitch, really” faces and walked away from you.

“Tommy! Where are you going? You can’t just leave me here!” He kept walking to the other side of the room, not once turning around to spare you another glance.

“Tommmmyyyyy!” He still didn’t turn around, and you were about to shout again until you saw some guest looking at you. You gave them all a bitter look and they averted their gazes, none of them wishing to die tonight. You frowned in Tommy’s direction before turning around to find someone you knew to talk too. You spotted Polly in the distance and headed her way.

“Ahhh Mrs.Shelby, lovely to see you this evening.”

You stopped in your tracks at the voice, slowly turning around to meet the cold eyes of Oswald Mosley. All the wine you had drank that night quickly left your system at the sight of him. Tommy had warned you to stay away from him, he warned you that he had no care about the feelings of women. You knew he was a terrible man.

He reached out with his bare clammy hand and grabbed your glove covered one and brought it up to his lips to give it a kiss, never once breaking eye contact with you.

You cringed on the inside, giving him a charming smile anyway. “Lovely too see you as well, Mr.Mosley.”

He looked you up and down, “might I just say dear, you look rather… ravishing tonight,” as the last word left his mouth he allowed his eyes to stop and stare at your breast. You pulled back at this, hating yourself for choosing such a daring dress. “Thank you, sir. I do believe I should go find my husband though, I’m sure he’s looking for me, have a good night Mr.Mosley.”

As you were walking around him to follow the way Tommy had left you moments prior, Oswald latched his hand onto your wrist, pulling you back towards him.

“Actually y/n, I ran into him for a brief conversation before I came to see you, and I can promise he seems quite busy with Mr.Solomons at the moment.” He gave you a sinister smile, still not letting go of your wrist.

You tried to pull back your hand but he only gripped it tighter, your wrist began to throb at this point.

“Mr.Mosley,” your teeth were clenched and you were sure your face was red, “I would actually love to go say hello to Mr.Solomons. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Alfie.” And with one final tug, your wrist slipped from his hold, but he was having none of that. He quickly grabbed you by your hips and pulled you flush to his chest, you could smell the alcohol and cheap cologne coming from him. For being so confident in himself he sure smelt like a piece of shit.

He squeezed your hips too tight for comfort and forced a smile towards you.

“It seems to me, Mrs.Shelby,” squeeze “that you are trying to get away from me. Do you not enjoy my company?” His dark brown eyes were boring into your e/c eyes.

You felt disgusted, who did this man think he was?

You glared at him, you gathered every ounce of anger and disgust you could and pushed it all behind your eyes.

“Mr.Mosley, I suggest you take your hands off of me right now, I don’t believe my husband would be too happy. He doesn’t like sharing.” You were furious, spitting out every word through your clenched teeth.

He scoffed, “your husband? Wouldn’t you like to see what a real man is like?” He still held your hips, and he slowly but forcefully pushed his hips up against yours.

*******************************************************

Across the room, Tommy was looking for you while he listened to Alfie speak. His blood boiled at the sight he found.

“So you see Tommy I-“

“Shut up Alfie.”

Alfie gazed over at Tommy incredulously, his cane stuck in midair from his rambling.

“Ex-fucking-cuse me Thomas?”

Tommy didn’t have time for Alfies games and pointed his cigarette in your direction. He followed Tommy���s hand and widened at the sight. There was no mistaking the disgusting excuse of a man and the beautiful woman Tommy was oh so lucky to call his.

Alfie had met you a couple of times, and although you were one scary bitch, he knew you were kind hearted behind your exterior. Even though you weren’t his he felt rage bubbling inside. He could see the discomfort on your face, he could only imagine what Tommy was thinking.

“Yeah, if I were you lad, I think I would go over and put a bullet in between the wops eyes, yeah.”

“Couldn’t agree with you more Alfie.” And with that Tommy was marching his way across the room to save his wife. When he was halfway across the room with determination on his face, he almost tripped over his own feet. The sight in front of him was not one he was expecting to see.

*******************************************************

Mosley pushed his hips up towards yours, and disgustingly enough you could feel everything through his pants. You could feel bile rising in your throat. You looked over his shoulder and saw Tommy on his way over with figurative steam coming out of his ears.

To hell with Tommy, he was the one that left you in the first place. You didn’t need his help, you were anything but a damsel in distress.

With that you brought your knee up to Mosley’s groin, a satisfactory smile on your face hearing him moan in pain.

When he doubled over in pain you didn’t hesitate before beating on the man.

“I-,” punch “said get-,” punch “off of-,” punch “ME!” kick.

Breathing heavily standing over the bloodied mans body, your senses began to come back to you. The band Tommy had hired stopped playing, everyone had stopped dancing, looking at you with bewilderment on their faces. You could hear Mosley struggling for air beneath you, and Tommy, well he was completely frozen in his spot, his jaw hanging open and he felt something stir inside of him.

You looked around, wiping off the dirt and blood on your hands and snapped at everybody staring at you, “shows over fuckers!” Everyone resumed what they were doing.

Tommy stormed over to you and for a second you thought he was going to shout. His brows were furrowed and he had a scowl on his face. When he was finally standing in front of you, you ducked your head waiting for the scolding.

You let out a surprised sound of shock when Tommy grabbed your face between both his hands and pressed his lips to yours. It was messy and uncoordinated, but neither of you cared.

Recovering from your moment of shock you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing back with just as much neediness. Tommy moved his hands down your back and grabbed your ass, emitting a moan from you and he slipped his tongue in your mouth, groaning at the taste of wine and cigarettes.

When he pulled back for air he stared into your eyes, keeping his hand on your ass.

“That-,” he took a deep breath, “was the hottest thing I have ever seen.” He pulled your hips closer to his, and you could feel him hardening against you.

You smirked up at Tommy, laughing before running your hand down his chest. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”

His eyes darkened, when he opened his mouth to speak again he was interrupted by a very impressed gangster.

“Y/n! Darling!,” Alfie came running over as fast as he could with his leg, swinging his cane all over the place in excitement, almost pulling off Mrs.Evans scarf in the process, “that was amazing! Tell me, how did you do it?”

You gave an innocent smile in the mans direction, still wrapped in Tommy’s arms, “it’s called badassery Alfie, I could teach you if you want?”

Tommy let out a loud laugh at that, letting go of your ass to pull you to his side by your waist and gave Alfie an award winning Thomas Shelby smile.

Alfie looked at you for a moment before laughing himself.

“You gotta’ keeper here Tom, don’t let her go or I’ll snatch her up myself.”

Tommy glared at Alfie and turned his attention to you smiling, “Trust me Alf, I’m never letting this one go.”

And with that Tommy dragged you upstairs into your shared room, showing you how hot he thought it truly was, and awarding you a job well done.

*******************************************************

a/n: I hope you like it honey! I’m not sure I liked the ending though, but I hope y’all do!!❤️❤️

Also! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Have a good day darlins!🥰

@shadowfoxey @nothingleftthaticando

[helloprettybb]

previews

I have a lot of things in the works, so I thought, why not show some previews. I don’t know when a majority of these are coming out, but I promise they will eventually. There are a lot more than just these, but they aren’t as fledged out. The title names may change in the future, once I finish, but the summaries will be the same. The eta’s may be really off, but I’ll try to get them out.

orders

summary- you disobey Steve on a mission and now you have to pay the consequences.

current word count- 2.3k

eta- 8/17-8/21

“What did I say?” Steve asks, once you close the bedroom door behind you. His voice is low and angry, which is scarier than if he were yelling. If you were being honest, you deserved his exasperation. What you did was reckless and completely disobeyed orders, but in the heat of the moment, you didn’t really care.

“Retreat,” you mumbled, knowing how much trouble you were in. Steve hadn’t spoken to you since the mission ended and the two of you could be alone. The moment the jet landed, he stormed off to his room. Steve didn’t even need to tell you to follow him, because you knew whatever was coming would be much worse if you didn’t.

“And what did you do?” Steve questions, knowing you knew the answer.

“I proceeded with the mission,” you replied, head low and eyes stuck on the ground. You were usually confident and brimming with enthusiasm, but on the receiving end of Steve’s anger, you couldn’t even lift your head up. Steve senses your timidness, so he grabs your chin and forces you to meet his eyes. Unlike their usual softness, his eyes are tough and piercing. You fight a little to lower your head, but Steve’s strong grip stops any resistance. You know he’s angry with you, but you can’t stop the dirty thoughts that rushed in your mind.

“You did. And what happens when you disobey orders?” Steve asks, his tone leaving you trembling beneath him.

“I get punished,” you answer meekly.

-

captain idiot

summary- Steve finally tells you how he feels, but then tells you it won’t work. Maybe a couple of people can knock some sense into him.

current word count- 943

eta- late august-early september

It’s the day you’ve looked forward to since you joined the Avengers and you’ve never wanted a day to end more. It was actually a good day and when Steve told you he wanted to talk, you thought it would be even better. Oh, how ignorant you were.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” you ask, trying to contain your excitement. You bite the inside of your lip to prevent the giddy smile from forming. Sitting beside him in the common room, you force your leg still as you wait for him to speak.

You’ve had a massive crush on Steve ever since you joined the team. Actually, you liked him even before that, when you saw him on TV for the first time. You were only sixteen at the time, but seeing people like you saving New York inspired you. All of your life, you’ve been ostracized and cast out for your abilities. While your parents tried to be supportive, they still held some fear. You don’t blame them, especially after your accidentally split the house in half with a tree.

You were only seventeen when you first met Fury. He offered a position on the team. At the time, you wanted to attend college, so you declined, but you kept in touch and after graduating, you decided to join the team. Tensions between the team were high as Steve, Natasha and Sam just rejoined the team and the Accords were dropped. But gradually, strain eased and the team seemed back to normal. Tony started talking to Steve and Bucky even joined the group. Everyone lived in harmony, until today.

“I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll just be blunt.” Steve states, his intense eye contact piercing into your soul. “I like you. More than just a friend.”

You try to remain calm, but you can feel the childish joy rise in your chest. Steadying your tone, you reply, “I like you, too.” For some reason, Steve doesn’t smile, but looks more serious.

He sighs and asserts, “I was afraid you’d say that.”

-

swindler’s trick

summary- Steve Rogers needed to clear his head. Haunted from the war and his past relationship, Steve sets sail for England to reunite with an old friend and hopefully distract himself from his life in America. His distraction comes in the form of a beautiful young girl, who proves to be a worthy distraction, but will she be enough to help Steve move on from his past?

current word count- 7.3k

eta- mid-september

“Perfection is relative, old friend. You’ll understand when you find it.” Anthony advises wisely and as if on cue, an angel walks through the doorway. Well, not literally, but you are the closest thing to a saint on earth.

With your smooth hands and polished nails, you don’t look like a servant, but for your status, you dressed rather simply. As opposed to a large, decorated dress, you donned a dark, modest gown. You dressed closer to a middle-class maiden than a noblewoman, yet Steve took note that no outfit could diminish your beauty. Instead of the intricate up-dos he’s seen many high-class women wear, you have your hair down and pulled back.

Anthony notices your entrance and greets, “Y/n, dear!”

Steve knew Anthony favored beautiful women, but he did not expect for him to marry someone so young. Steve’s seen his fair share of older men and young partners, but he didn’t think Anthony would be that kind of man.

Strolling up to Anthony, you greet him lovingly by placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. Turning to Steve, you acknowledge politely, “Hello, sir. To what name shall I call you?” The moment you address him, Steve forgets every word in the English language. His mouth runs dry and he starts to regret denying Anthony’s tea offer.

Your stunning beauty and air of confidence fluster Steve and he manages to stutter out,“I- I am Captain America Rogers. I mean, Steve Rogers.” Attempting to recover, he clarifies, “I’m from America and I served as a Captain in the Army.”

You laugh lightly and Steve could have sworn an angel acquired its wings. “Well, Captain America. I appreciate the background information, but I figured from your accent that you were not from here.” you quip.

Anthony glares as you and gently scolds, “He is an old friend, y/n. Please be nice.”

You smile softly and tell him, “Oh papa, I hold no malice. It was a simple jest.” You turn to him and say, “But if any offense was taken, I do apologize. I’m aware that my tongue can be quite scathing.”

-

powers of persuasion

summary- you’re an expert assassin with ‘powers of persuasion’ who happens to be at the top of S.H.I.E.L.D’s most wanted list. catching you was the easiest part, now comes the hard part: turning you into an Avenger.

current word count- 1.4k

eta- mid-september

You are one of the most insufferable, arrogant, rude people he’s ever met. You are the one handcuffed to the chair, not him. Yet you acted like you were the one in control. No, he had the upper hand in the conversation. You definitely did not fluster him when you implied something about the handcuffs and Steve certainly didn’t imagine a scenario where he’d put the handcuffs to use.

Fine, you’re attractive, but you already knew that, which is one of the worst qualities about you. You know that you’re beautiful and use that to your advantage just to mess with people’s minds. That and your actual ability to mess with people’s minds.

Steve didn’t think he’d get that angry in such a short span of time, but something about the smug look on your face and unfazed teasing made Steve want to snap the table in half. He had to leave and clear his head.

Steve leaves the interrogation area altogether, needing to get as far away as possible. He talked to you by yourself, which was his mistake. Hopefully back at the base, he can find someone who will sympathize and agree that you are selfish, annoying, disrespectful...

“She’s joining the team,” Fury states. Steve couldn’t even hide his reaction, as his jaw dropped and eyebrows furrowed.

“Fury, are you serious?” Steve asks instinctively. While they are basically the same rank, Steve still treats Fury with respect, but right now, all of that flew out the window.

“Yes, Rogers. She’s useful.” Fury responds, “Not only is she an expect fighter, her persuasion ability will be advantageous.”

“So what? She’s untrustworthy!” Steve exclaimed, his voice rising more than he’d like.

“Well, learn to trust her,” Fury says in his blunt tone that shuts everyone down. “Besides, it’s better to have her on our side.” His last sentence shut all of Steve’s protests down. When Fury sees that he ended the argument, he places a key in Steve’s hand and commands, “Bring her to the Compound. You’re training her starting tomorrow morning.”

Before Steve could start another argument, Fury walks away and leaves Steve alone with his angry self.

the flirt

summary- Peter’s a sucker for British accents. Especially when they’re attached to a beautiful girl with glowing eyes.

current word count- 1.1k

eta- unknown

Peter Parker is a very anxious person. Whether it was asking strangers for help or working in group projects, he found it very difficult to speak up to newcomers. So when Mr. Stark called from a mysterious location and told him the Avengers gained a new member, Peter instantly began to worry. He asked for any information on them, but Tony insisted that it should be a surprise.

“Do you know who it is?” Peter asked Clint. He’s spent his entire morning bugging everyone at the compound. So far, he’s received a groan from Bucky, a ‘go away’ from Sam and an ‘I don’t know’ from Wanda.

“No,” Clint replied bluntly. subtly turning the knob on his hearing aid to block out Peter’s pestering. Nat looks up from her phone and shakes her head.

“You’re not going to get anything from us, kid.” Natasha simply states. Peter plops beside her on the couch and Natasha doesn’t even try to hide her eye roll.

“Wait, so you do know something?” he asked. His bouncing irritates Nat and she puts her phone down.

“Yes, but I won’t tell you. Besides, Tony will be here in a couple hours.” Nat says. Peter flops on the couch dramatically.

“But I can’t wait a couple hours!” he announces. Fed up with his antics, Nat gets up from the couch and leaves Peter to his thoughts. What if the new person doesn’t like him? It took him years for the others to like him and they still get annoyed. Now he has to get another person to tolerate him!

Peter bounced between pacing his room and annoying the other Avengers as he waits for Tony’s arrival. He only stops when Bucky threatens to ‘put him to sleep.’ Peter then, on his own, decides that he’ll stay in his room for the rest of the time. He’s pulled out of his thoughts when F.R.I.D.A.Y announces, “Mr. Stark has arrived.”

“O-okay voice lady,” Peter replies nervously. He sprints downstairs and meets with the others at the compound’s entrance. Steve’s standing with his arms crossed and stoic like usual. Bucky’s arms are also crossed, but he has a bored expression on his face. He doesn’t know why he’s so bored. There is going to be someone new living with them!

Natasha and Wanda on their phones, probably texting each other so they don’t have to talk in front of the guys. Sam leans down and tells Peter, “They call her the Green-Eyed Monster.”

He knows Sam only said it to scare him, but what kind of name is the Green-Eyed Monster. She must be evil to get a name like that. And if she’s evil, why would Tony willing bring her in. Wait, Sam said her?

As if on cue, Tony Stark opens the doors and following behind him is the most beautiful girl Peter’s ever seen.

[wildflowerwlw]

someone remind me to put a page break after like the first paragraph it’s 11 pm rn and ima go to sleep remind me in like,,;; a few hours thanks lol

As long as Ella has known Delyth, Delyth has talked about people she’s interested in. It’s not anything new or exciting. But, when she talks about people she is interested in it has always been a certain type of people. Boys. Then one day, she tells Ella about someone else. A girl. As usual, Delyth moved on fairly quickly and eventually ran out of things to say and has left Ella to her thoughts. Ella is sure Delyth considers this to be comfortable silence. It’s not comfortable to Ella who’s found herself overthinking every little thing as of late.Ella is almost convinced she imagined it, but she hasn’t. It was the same stuff she’s said a thousand times about a hundred different boys but with the “he’s” changed to “she’s”. She probably imagined it. It wouldn’t be the first time Ella’s brain has tried to convince her of something like that. So maybe she’s caught Delyth staring in her direction for a few seconds too long on a few occasions, maybe Delyth’s hand finds here’s too many times to seem normal, and maybe they share the bed more often than most friends should. There’s always something to explain it off though, she thanks her brain for that at least. Maybe Delyth is looking at something behind her that she finds particularly interesting, maybe every completely heterosexual teenage girl enjoys physical contact with her best friend that much, and, of course, maybe, as Delyth had suggested to her one night, sleeping in the same bed as someone else makes the nightmares she sometimes gets go away.

This girl who’s found herself the object of Delyth’s affections seems to be the only thing Ella’s brain can’t explain away into a completely normal and completely heterosexual activity.

“Let’s play with the Ouija board,” Delyth says out of nowhere. Ella’s stomach sinks for a different reason now.

“No. Absolutely not,” Ella shuts her down. Ella has always been skittish with the supernatural. It just wasn’t something she wanted to think about or mess with.

Nothing was sacred or off limits when it came to Delyth. She feared nothing and respected no boundaries when it came to being uneasy about dangerous activities. She was reckless with everything she did (which ironically enough has lead to multiple wrecked cars) and pushed Ella to be the same constantly. Usually Ella appreciated this quality in Delyth, it made her have treasured experiences she wouldn’t have otherwise gotten. However, she really did not appreciate it when it came to fucking with demons she didn’t want to have anything to do with.

“Great, we’re doing it,” Deylth says.

And that’s how the girls end up sitting on the floor of Delyth’s bedroom floor, leaning over a scary demon communication board with their fingers dangerously close on a planchette.

“I hate you so much,” Ella whispers to Delyth, as if trying to be quiet so the demons don’t hear her and think she’s talking to them.

Delyth adjusts her sitting position and moves so their thighs are pressed together. Ella contemplates moving so that the space between them returns but realizes that’s stupid. She’s being ridiculous. She’s almost an adult, she can handle being next to a girl without breaking down, even if that girl is her straight  best friend who has no idea of her sexual orientation or pressing romantic feelings towards her. Ella decides to put the thought to the back of her mind and attempts to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. Her feelings for Delyth seem to be scarier to her than the incoming threat of actual demons.

“Wait give me a sec,” Delyth says, taking her fingers off the plancette and moving back to put her curly brown hair into her scrunchie. Ella is almost sad to have Delyth’s leg removed from her’s before she panics.

“Oh my god, Delyth!” She screeches, “You can’t take your hand off the plancette that’s against like half of the rules!” 

Delyth scuffs at her. Actually scuffs. “Its fine the demons want me to look cute for them,” Delyth says as she looks at her reflection in her phone to check her hair.

“You always look cute-” Ella says. Her face goes red but Delyth seems unphased. Straight girls always compliment each other. Delyth doesn’t know that Ella is not a straight girl.

Ella has always meant to tell her. They’ve known each other since they were kids, their mothers always such close friends. Delyth has stuck by her side all through her parents divorce and her father’s remarrying to a evil witch Ella doesn’t want to think about now. Or ever. Delyth knows everything about her, besides anything to do with the lesbianism part, which just happens to include her being desperately in love with her best friend of most of her life. Ella isn’t really sure why she has kept this a secret from Delyth, but she likes to think that it’s because she doesn’t want to ruin the most important friendship she’s ever had. Delyth means everything to her, and she’ll take her in anyway she can get her. It’s so much better to have her as a best friend than not have her at all, and anytime she tries to tell her true feelings that pesky truth return to add to the weight on her shoulders.

Delyth puts her fingers back on the plancette and Ella notices how short her nails are. Ella is sure her nails were longer last time she looked at them. Delyth always kept her nails long, even getting fake ones put on every few weeks. It’s odd to Ella to see Delyth’s nails that short and clear of nail polish, but she kind of likes it.

“Did you cut your nails?” Ella asks, curiosity getting the best of her. She swears she sees Delyth smile out of the corner of her mouth and the butterflies in her stomach flutter a little harder.

“Yeah, long nails are overrated,” Delyth’s voice sounds softer than usual, or maybe Ella’s brain is just loosing oxygen from all of the anxiety squeezing her lungs.

“It’s cute,” Ella blurts. Her face goes red.

“Anything is cute on me,” Delyth says. She’s always had a habit of being cocky and arrogant for show and Ella has always been shamelessly attracted to it.

“Yeah,” Ella doesn’t let herself stress over that response spilling out of her. She doesn’t have time to anyway because, as always, Delyth moves on quickly.

“Let’s get started,” Delyth says, starting to move the planncette in circles around the board.

Never once in Ella’s life as she ever wanted to mess with the paranormal. It’s never tickled her fancy. Meanwhile, Delyth, being the fearless absolute idiot that she is, has always been interested in anything and everything she shouldn’t mess with. It wasn’t just paranormal, it was literally anything that shouldn’t be messed with. Bee hives, particularly climable trees, abandoned buildings, dead rodents-you name it, Delyth has fucked with it. Quite offten Ella, being the sweet and supportive best friend that she is, gets pulled into Delyth’s schemes. Ella’s hair is still recovering from the bangs Delyth insisted on cutting for her last year.

“What are we doing right now?” Ella asks.

“Giving energy,” There’s a pause and the room is silent except for the scraping of wood on wood. “Okay that’s enough.”

“I don’t like giving demons my energy,” Ella says.

“Stop being selfish they deserve it,” Delyth has probably never been serious for more than three seconds consecutively in her entire life.

“Okay demons, is there anyone there?” Delyth asks the void.

The void doesn’t seem to feel like answering because the girls go through every question in the book and then some before deciding that the whole thing is stupid and this board is stupid.

“Don’t call the demons stupid they can hear you,” Ella says.

“I doubt the demons are going to take much offense, Ella dear,” Delyth is teasing when she says it but it still makes Ella’s heart stop.

The girls say goodbye and throw the board back into the depths of Delyth’s closet. Ella vocializes her hopes to never see the thing ever again. Her heart still hasn’t calmed down and she’s scared of glancing at the windows on the off chance that there’s a ghastly face looking back at her.

“Are you saying the night?” Delyth asks. Ella knows that Delyth’s parents wouldn’t mind and also that technically three in the morning isn’t the best time for her to drive home. Especially when there’s too many backroads she’d have to take. Alone. Late at night. While she’s terrified of seeing demons. There was also a cornfield somewhere on one of those streets and Delyth has forced into watching one too many horror movies for that to ever be not traumatizing. She doesn’t even really need to think about it.

“Yes,”

“You look paler than usually, are you okay?” Delyth says, genuine concern in her eyes. Ella feels her heart swell. Delyth may be an actual idiot on the best of days, but she’s always a good person.

“I’m fine, just traumatized,” Ella says with a small smile. Delyth reaches out and pushes some of Ella’s not-quite-bangs out of her face. Ella is convinced she’s going to drop dead right here and now.

“Sorry, t’was bothering me,” Delyth says, pulling back right away as if she just crossed a line she wanted to get back on the right side of as soon as possible. Ella didn’t blame her.

“Okay I’m going to go get ready for bed,” Ella says quickly. She whips around to hide her blush and heads to Delyth’s bathroom.

“Okay, love you!” Delyth calls after her, considerablely too loud when her entire family is asleep in the same house.

“Love you too,” Ella feels her heart break a little more.

.

Ella is standing at her locker after third period, quickly switching her books and trying to keep it at least decently organized. Messy lockers have always annoyed her. Messy anything annoys her. She’s just got done organizing and is in the process of shutting her locker when she feels a hand on her arm. She almost yelps, but she decides to look first. She’s relieved when she sees a familiar brown hand gripping onto her arm but then it starts dragging her into the direction of the girls bathroom nearest to her locker. She holds her books closely to her chest with her free hand.

“Delyth what are you-“ Ella chooses to cut herself off. She knows that reason is pointless with Delyth. Delyth just does things sometimes.

The bathroom is empty. Of course it is. This bathroom just happens to be the most disgusting one in the entire school. There was dirt on the ceiling, how was that even possible?

“Look!” Delyth says excitedly. She lets go of Ella’s arm to use both of her hands to pull up her shirt.

Ella thinks she’s going to vomit from nerves. She’s so caught up in looking at her best friend’s skin that she almost doesn’t notice the reason that skin is being presented to her. Three red scratch marks extend from Delyth’s right hip bone to the left side of her ribs.

“What did you do this time?” Ella asks, forcing her eyes up from Delyth’s stomach before she completely looses her mind.

“I didn’t do anything,” Delyth says. “Don’t you know what three scratches mean?”

“I literally have no idea,” Ella confesses. Delyth let’s her shirt fall down and even though Ella was trying not to look she feels kind of disappointed.

“It’s demons!” Delyth sounds proud. Ella almost has a heart attack.

“Why are you happy about that?!” Ella asks.

Delyth just shrugs in response. She doesn’t seem concerned about it at all. That’s another trait Ella has always admired about Delyth, her ability to not only throw caution to the wind and do whatever she wants whenever she wants but her ability to look at the consequences of her actions (which are usually unfavorable) and smile. However, when it comes to her best friend being attacked by a demon, Ella is uneasy.

“Okay I’m going to class now so you don’t make me late,” Ella says. As she’s leaving she adds something almost like an afterthought, “I love you, call me after school so I know you’re not dead.”

“Okay, I love you!” Delyth calls after her. Ella’s stomach will never get used to Delyth saying that, even after over a decade of hearing it daily.

.

Delyth does call Ella after school, and she does it with fingers shaking and on the verge of tears. Delyth can look at most horrible decisions and be fine. However, facing this partial task seems way more difficult than any bad move she’s ever made. Maybe it’s a good move though, Delyth can’t say for sure just yet. Ella is her best friend, she’ll understand. Ella’s understood when she got her period and ruined her bedsheets in fith grade, she understood when Delyth snapped at her after a hard day at work and she even understood when Delyth called her crying at three in the morning that night after spending hours feeling guilty. Ella is a good friend. Ella is good, period. She’ll understand.

Delyth spends far longer with her finger hovering over the call button on Ella’s contact than she’d care to admit to any human being. No matter how hard she tries, she just can’t seem to jump into the fire and make the call.

Ella is her best friend. Ella knows her better than any human being ever. Ella is the best person Delyth has ever known, and she’s confident in that. She wants to tell her. She just doesn’t know if she’s ready.

Ella will understand. Ella will understand why Delyth couldn’t tell her before, and if Delyth can’t even tell her now, Ella will understand that too.

Delyth takes a deep breath and pushes the call button. Ella picks up after two rings. Delyth knows she’s been expecting this, hell, she asked her to do it. She just doesn’t know what Delyth is about to say. Honestly, Delyth doesn’t even know what she’s about to say.

“I think I’m bisexual, bye!” Delyth hangs up the phone and throws it at her bed and walks out of the room. She’s shaking even more now than she was a few moments ago.

Delyth could have said literally anything. Perhaps gone into a speech about how this won’t change anything and how she loves Ella and how she’s known for a while and it’s not that she doesn’t trust Ella it’s just that it took a while to get the confidence to tell anyone, even her bestest friend in the whole world. But no. Delyth always makes the stupidest choices and is prepared to deal with the consequences. Today, however, she doesn’t think she can. She could loose Ella forever. Well, no, she really can’t at this point. She could tell Ella she’s a serial killer and Ella would be fine with it but regardless, she’s nervous.

When she finally gets the courage to walk back into her room she’s got six missed calls and countless texts from Ella.

Ella (5:56 pm): ???

Ella: (5:56 pm): bitch

Ella (5:57 pm): ily but answer me

Ella (5:57 pm): !

Ella (5:59 pm): Delyth ily with my whole heart and I understand this is a lot for you but you have to answer me I’m a worried grandma

Ella (6:01 pm): I love you call me when you can

Delyth calls her back right away before she can talk herself out of it. Usually Ella is the stressed one who freaks out over nothing and Delyth is the strong one. Delyth has a feeling Ella will be strong for her right now.

“Hi,” Ella says softly.

“Hi,” Delyth repeats. She hopes her smile translates through her voice, but she thinks that’s only how it works in Hollywood movies.

“Can I tell you something?” Ella asks after a minute of silence.

“No never were supposed to be talking about me right now,” Delyth puts so much sarcasm into her voice not even the most dense person would get that she’s joking. Ella isn’t dense though, and Delyth knows that she will get it.

“We could talk about you forever and I’d be happy,”

“Was that your something?” Delyth asks quietly, as if they were telling secrets on the playground at recess again. This feels like a secret.

“Yeah, kinda,” Ella says with a breathy laugh.

“Good, it’s kinda my something too,” Delyth replies.

“Good,”

Nothing has really changed, but both Delyth and Ella feel like it’s a start. The butterflies in the stomachs seem to agree. Maybe the demons agree too, but neither of them mess with them again so they never really know.

[golittlebiggirl]

ME and my recovery - let there be hope

How do I start thee, blog? Let me count the ways...

Once with a comedy tale about how I was a feckless, reckless wheelchair user. Next with an anecdote about being forced to use a stolen identity as a backpacker in Peru. Then with a paragraph on how my son decided he wanted to compete in the Olympics in an event that doesn’t exist.

This blog feels like The Big One for me. It’s important. So important that I can’t figure out how to say what I want to say.

In short, it is about my experience of being ill with M.E. and… this is the tricky part… how I have recovered from it and… here comes the other tricky part… how I believe many of those diagnosed with Long Covid actually have M.E.

It’s been hard to introduce for two reasons.

One: Although I have been well for five years, there’s still a niggly little doubting voice that questions whether I truly have recovered or whether it will come back to floor me again one day.

Two: There is controversy around the definition or even the existence of M.E. (or is it Chronic Fatigue Syndrome/CFS?) as a physical illness, and now that Long Covid has been thrown into the mix it has become an even scarier prospect to nail one’s colours to the mast.

So, I’ve had to do some serious internal inquiry to clarify what I want to say. Turns out it comes down to this:

·         Long Covid looks to me like M.E./CFS by another name

·         If you have a stand-alone diagnosis of any of these conditions, recovery is possible so don’t give up

·         Some doctors will fob you off – keep trying until you find one willing to a) listen and b) help you

·         Don’t settle for living a half-life – if you are struggling on, feeling like you are not properly ill but not properly well, seek help (and you may need to surrender to the illness before you can begin to recover)

I remember someone once describing the experience of having M.E./CFS as ‘like walking a tightrope between acceptance and hope’. For me, that perfectly defines my experience of trying to recover from it.

For yes, and I say this with great trepidation and sick-making fear, it really IS possible to recover. It scares me to say so, because so many people in the ME/CFS community have been told this is not true and cannot believe it. They are still very poorly and many believe that people like me, who say they have recovered, must never have really had it in the first place.

But because medical science still doesn’t understand M.E. (and now it doesn’t understand Long Covid…yet), patients have been victims of neglect because they don’t tick the right boxes on diagnostic forms, and instead of doctors being curious and looking into why so many thousands of people describing the same symptoms are unable to get better, instead it is the patients who are doubted, blamed and, ultimately, neglected.

When I became so poorly after multiple viral infections 10 years ago, this approach made me feel I must be mentally ill. All my test results appeared to prove there was nothing physically wrong with me (except a handful of ‘normal’ infections) and yet I felt ill like I had never felt ill before. So, logic dictates, if there’s nothing seriously wrong physically then it can only be mental. For quite a long period I believed that my illness, or my inability to get better, was psychological and could be cured using NLP (neuro linguistic programming). It wasn’t and it couldn’t, although I have since found NLP to be useful in lots of areas of my life.

It saddens and angers me to read that many unsuspecting victims of Long Covid are being treated with the same neglect and contempt as those with M.E./CFS, being told to ‘push through’ their fatigue and being prescribed exercise plans to ‘get them back on their feet’.

I won’t regale you with the emotional back story of how I was struck down with this devastating, life-changing, misunderstood and criminally under-funded illness.

What I will tell you is that when it got me, when I discovered that M.E. could not be ‘willed away’ with positive thinking, fresh air and exercise – which had cured all my previous small-time ills – when it got me, I was no longer me. I began to unravel, against my proudly strong will.

All the things I used to do that I believed made up ‘me’, I could no longer do. I couldn’t do my job. I couldn’t go out with my besties. I couldn’t have friends over for dinner. I couldn’t ride my bike, kayak or coasteer. I couldn’t go singing. I couldn’t help my husband finish renovating our derelict cottage which we’d worked on together for two years. I couldn’t even be a mum to my son. I couldn’t pick him up to cuddle him. I couldn’t cook him food nor feed it to him. Sometimes my husband had to feed my food to me. Sometimes he had to clean my teeth. Couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t. And I had always been someone who always could…and did!

When I first began to suspect I had M.E. I read a list of the most common symptoms. I remember there were 21 of them and I was experiencing 16. These are the ones I can recall most vividly.

Fatigue – and I mean unrelenting exhaustion like I had never known, manifested as absolute weakness in my body and especially my limbs. It was too much for me to hold my hands in my lap, they would just drop to my sides. A really worrying symptom was a constant ‘buzzing’ in my body, strongest in my legs. Like pins and needles on steroids. It felt like someone had left me switched on and my batteries were struggling to keep their charge. For the first few months I seemed to have a constant sore throat. I had joint pain, like a migraine in my knees, and horrible cramps in my legs. There was disabling dizziness, headaches, muscle twitching, gut problems, urine infections. I had fibroids and kidney stones. I would experience something called ‘brain fog’ which meant I couldn’t give instructions as I could not find the right words or focus long enough to finish a sentence. It all combined to make me feel like I was drunk, hungover and full of flu at the same time. And I just could NOT sleep. So very tired yet unable to sleep. With a toddler to look after and a husband who left for work every day at 4am.

At various stages, various doctors left me feeling varying degrees of madness. In the words of Willy Wonka: “You must never, NEVER doubt what nobody is sure about”. Willy was just a simple sweet-maker but oh so wise. When it comes to M.E. doctors should be trained to know better and doubt less.

I was accused of ‘not trying’ when a consultant was testing the power in my limbs. Despite the fact that he had no specialism in M.E., evidently because he could not explain why I had no power in my limbs, it must mean I wasn’t trying to use them.

I was asked by a GP ��Aww do you think it was anxiety?” when I described the shaking and buzzing in my legs when I first climbed the stairs at work after being off sick for three weeks (more time than I had taken off sick in the rest of my working life put together… I ended up being off for more than a year).

I was discharged by Wales’ only M.E. consultant on the same day he diagnosed me, 14 months after I fell ill, with no help except a recommendation of a bizarre psychology book with a psychedelic monkey on the cover.

I’m grateful that sufficient time has passed that I no longer shake with anger or cry with shame at the memory of some of those sorry encounters. But inexcusably there are thousands of others who are still suffering such experiences. Ten years on. Others who are not believed. Dismissed. Belittled. Ignored. Neglected. Thousands of others who were previously very healthy, happy and above-all active people. Others confined to a wheelchair, a bed, a hospital. Thousands who have lost their jobs. Reduced to a physical and mental shadow of their former selves.

However, in spite of all of those encounters of mine and more, I am also grateful that I never gave up hope. At times I wasn’t sure what or who to believe, but I always maintained a powerful self-belief and knew that if there was a way for me to get better, I would find it.

It took me a long, long time to find it. I found dozens of others before me whose recovery stories I devoured; in books, on DVDs, via email and phone through friends of friends and finally, via a charitable clinic which helped me fit together the pieces of my own M.E. recovery puzzle.

It would take me another blog to list all the treatments, potions, techniques, drugs and therapies I tried, although I did stop short of taking the snake venom recommended by one of the recovered patients I spoke to.

Back to hope though. In recovery from ME/CFS (and I suspect Long Covid) your hopes will be dashed. Over and over and over again. Learning how to recover was the single hardest – and longest - challenge of my life. My four years at university and college were nothing compared with the researching, studying, experimenting, failing and life-lesson-learning I amassed in that very different adventure.

I had to unlearn great chunks of my personality whose behaviours I believed (and still do) had very gradually steered me into a position where my immune system was so shot it would pick up virus upon virus and then the post viral fatigue would eventually render me useless.

My recovery began with a LOT of dietary changes to help right a few internal wrongs, then there were techniques to calm down my overwrought central nervous system and get my body out of the ‘fight or flight’ mode it was stuck in. Then some counselling and life skills to tackle the roots of some of those unhelpful behaviours – two of the most crucial being learning how to deeply rest and learning how to say no.

Finally, once I began to be able to do small tasks again like having a shower or folding some washing, the single toughest challenge – especially for an achiever personality type like mine – was to learn the art of pacing myself… and this is where that tightrope between acceptance and hope was at its wobbliest and most perilous.

This presents just a small and hazy image of my fiendish jigsaw puzzle of recovery, made all the tougher as there was never a reference picture on the box.

Every body is different and every body’s recovery from illness is different. No one person’s M.E./CFS/Long Covid symptoms will be exactly the same and so of course there is no one-size-fits-all recovery plan. But unfortunately, at this point in time, there is literally NO accepted recovery plan.

So, to any body who is struggling with fatigue-related chronic illness and has been given no hope of recovery or even any help to manage their condition, these are my best starting suggestions. They may not fix you fully or quickly but they may at least help you to accept and cope with how your life has changed until some clearer direction finds its way through to you:

·         Believe it is possible to get better and never give up hope

·         Find and listen to people who have recovered – and don’t be disheartened when every one of them gives you a different story of how (dig deep and there will be common themes)

·         Examine your attitude towards (and beliefs about) rest because true rest, in your mind as well as your body, is your best friend

·         Practise forgiving yourself, it’s an essential skill you’ll need to learn how to pace yourself

As for my alternative intros to this blog. I was indeed a feckless, occasionally reckless wheelchair user, there’s a Tesco ad stand and a wildlife park fence which could testify. But conceding to use a wheelchair opened back up the outside world which I was so determined to remain a part of. And I am extremely fortunate that after eight months of researching my way to physical improvement I was gradually able to ditch it.

I was indeed given someone else’s identity to gain entry to the Inca Trail in Peru (before my M.E days). My tour guide sprung it on me two minutes before my train arrived at the trail entrance so I had no choice but to assume it. It was not the last time I have had to reinvent myself in order to move forward.

And my son did indeed announce his plan to be an Olympic parkour athlete last year. It was then I realised – fleetingly and not for the first time – that this MUST be the purpose of my having lived through the hell of M.E. Of course! If I was to parent an Olympian, I would need to draw on all of the self-fortifying strategies I had learned during recovery and convalescence to keep us all afloat during the training and tough times!

I shall always seek to find a purpose in what I went through, I haven’t found it yet but from time to time I think I’ve seen the light. Who knows, maybe my son will become an Olympian. And who knows, maybe a cure or accepted recovery plan will be found for M.E./CFS and Long Covid. We can but hope.

We can but hope.

This is the clinic which was/is so important to me and a great starting point if you think you or someone you know may be suffering with ME/CFS, they have lots of really useful free videos on their YouTube channel:

https://www.theoptimumhealthclinic.com/aboutus-overview/

If anyone wants to know more specifics about what helped me to get better please do get in touch.

[dexcidium]

One Christmas after...

Hey Friend,

Wow, it’s been a year already, hasn’t it? Time flies when you’re having fun, I guess. What sorts of things, you ask? Well, you know, the usual. But don’t worry, I haven’t gotten myself killed or gravely injured! Not this me, anyway. MOVING ON! I want to tell you all about the things we did over here, is that all right? Good. It’s not like I was going to accept ‘no’ as an answer. When the new year began, all sorts of things were brewing at the mage’s association. You know how they are. Anyway, it’s strange. They’re taking their sweet time despite deciding on a new acting director. I thought mages worked fast but they’re still waiting. I don’t blame them, though, it’s hard to find this bloody place.

Anyway, Mashu’s… not doing so well with her powers. It’s still there but… she just can’t use them. So she’s taken a back seat from accompanying me for a while. Though she does still scold me throughout the missions. First, we went to Shinjuku and we met a – get this – a dog servant with a headless rider! Well, it was more like a really big wolf but the big guy’s really fluffy anyway! There was this Assassin guy that could turn into anything and kidnapped me. He’s pretty strange. Sherlock Holmes and James Moriarty also appeared! Man, you would have loved that, wouldn’t you? We also met an Altered version of EMIYA. Never thought I’d even see him like that… anyway, this particular singularity almost got an asteroid dropped onto it… it was… pretty intense. And don’t tell those two Alter girls this but their new outfits had me dying… though they did force me to dance and cross dress. Don’t laugh, please…

Valentines Day happened. As per usual… there was too much chocolate and we got a new Arturia! Who is… a walking NEET. Wow, we got a couple of NEETs this year… anyway, all you should know is that the force is utter crap and I have no idea what was happening this entire time. I think a couple of servants spiked their chocolates that they gave to me with alcohol…

Guess what…? The Gudaguda idiots came back… and this time, they brought Chacha and Hijikata… that guy Okita kept referring too. Those two are really loud. Like… REALLY loud. The mini Nobbus came back and ruined our lives again. Is it weird to sympathise with a demon pillar? Because I sympathised with a demon pillar when Hijikata-san did… that was a really weird event…

And ah… the digital sea. I’d… rather not talk about it actually… that was a particularly draining ride. I… I let too many people die. I didn’t know what to do. In the end, nobody actually remembers what happened but me and a couple of other new friends. But… I was conflicted about my abilities as a master once more for quite some time… but I won’t dwell on that too much.

Next up, we went to Agartha! That place was all sorts of a mess. First we were greeted by a friendly looking old man, who turned out to be really evil… also the Amazons and a berserker Penthesilea showed up, almost used my little friend between my legs as a baby maker, and then she got into a fight with a Megaros possessed Heracles! I almost peed my pants with that battle… it was so crazy… Anyway, more crossdressing happened, and get this – we got a Fergus Lily! Yeah! That big guy with nothing but sex on his mind. He was… really innocent, suprisingly. Until we got into more trouble and had to fight some Chinese zombies, a barely dressed Empress who was not Nero, and then the island became a floating island and trust me… it was a lot of work. We also met a Caster who was behind all of this… in the end, I couldn’t help but sympathise with her not wanting death…

Summer came back around… and we miraculously did not get stuck on an island! Sorry about not being able to contact you for quite some time last year… luckily the flow of time was different on that island. This year… Ishtar decided that we should have a race. A bunch of servants broke up into trios or pairs and 8 teams went on a race… and then it turned into a prison break. Don’t ask how, but it smelled like sweat the entire time I was trying to get out of those tunnels. Medb really looked good in that prison warden outfit… and yeas, she did step on me. Also, the swimsuits were… something. I uh… shouldn’t describe them in detail here. I know you well enough to know that you can’t handle that sort of thing like you can with sugar.

Still in August… we met a new friend. It was a kid named Paul Bunyan but uh… we also seemed to have met some sort of crazed, alternate version of a Chaldean master. That stuff have me nightmares afterwards… do you think that master is Beast VIII?

After all those crazy, and whacky events, we finally went back to clearing the other left over Singularities. It was Musashi-chan’s world. There was… a lot of fighting. More than usual. We met a new ninja named Katou Danzou. She’s a puppet, however… but I feel like she’s even more human than I am. We also met a baldie monk! He was friendly at first but then some sort of curse turned him crazy. And same with Tomoe Gozen! Man, she scared me! But when we managed to summon her, she turned out to be obsessed with video games. Gotta tell ya’, she’s really cute. She could tear my head off though. And we also met a new old man! His sword skills were fearsome… he was a Yagyuu of course… the father of Yagyu Juubei himself, Yagyuu Munenori. Towards the end, we met an even crazier version of Amakusa… do you think this is what he could turn into if he manages to get a grail? I should try and be a bit more harsher on him… if I can. In the end, the fight was fierce. And guess who showed up to fight Musashi-chan? That’s right! Kojiro. But he wasn’t a servant… he was human. His swords skills as well… all I can say was it was unbound… truly infinite. In the end, they were a stalemate…. But I believed in Musashi-chan… and she won. And though she may be gone for now… I know that when I need her, she’ll be back. She promised me so.

We’re skipping over Halloween. It was pretty much the same but with robots and ANOTHER NEET. Please don’t make me go back there… I even learned ninjutsu from Kotaro to avoid it all. But alas, they were like hounds seeking the blood of their prey… and I happened to have been beaten bloodied. How do you like that sort of poetry!? The writer crew have been helping me improve!

We finally got to the last of our loose ends. Salem. More specifically the time during the Salem witch trials. It was… quite a creepy place. With all sorts of monsters, and things that I thought were even scarier than some of the things we’ve faced before. All sorts of things happened… we met this little girl named Abigail… I… I couldn’t do much there. So many of our servants died again… I feel like I let Sanson down by letting him be killed liked that… but we were fortunate enough to be able to get his memories back. But man. Of all the things that happened down there with all the strange tentacle monsters and random keyholes… nothing was stranger than Robin’s speaking pattern in that entire thing! I think he’s been broken by Liz’s singing. And there was a guy with a crow’s head that appeared and talked to us in a creepy voice! In the end, Carter, who was our guide at that place turned out to be a space/time traveller. I mean, we’re pretty much the same but it was a genuine surprise. Also remind me to never look up Loveraftian horrors again. There’s a reason they’re called ‘horrors’.

Finally, we were just a few days before Christmas… and everybody got sick. We would have loved to have you here then. Though I think humans were more of your specialty. Anyway… we were sent to the underworld and… by the gods… I thought Santa Alter was weird, and so was Starbucks Lily but nothing could have prepared me for Atilla the Sun(ta). There were. SO SO SO many sheep. We had to go to Ere-chan this time… and we finally managed to get her to Chaldea! I was so happy. It’s been too long, and I really missed her. Though, there was a lot of struggle. With everyone down, I had only Sun(ta) to rely on. Ere-chan really did try her best… she only wanted to treat the citizens of the underworld with the beauty of the Sun… and Nergal gave her the power of plague and disaster instead. I really wanted to save her. Anyway, it all ended up well. We’re still recovering from that, however. It’s been one hell of a year. But to be honest, something still feels missing.

   …

…

…

Hey, Solomon?

No, Doctor Roman. It’s been a year since then.

How are you?

We’re holding up just fine, as you can see. Da Vinci-chan’s doing her best as acting director as we try to avoid into getting too much trouble from the Mage’s Association. Of course, we’re still doing our very best at our jobs. This was a future that you gave us, that you gave to mankind. Though it is the only useful thing that you left us. What the hell am I supposed to do with the ten bags of caster sugar and the box of Magi Mari merchandise that we found under your bed!?

You left us too early, you know? I still had so much to ask and tell you. But hey, when you gotta go, you gotta go. Thanks for sticking around for as long as you did. I hope your second human life was fulfilling as the first. I can’t say this enough but…

For taking care of Mashu and I, I thank you.

For watching over us on all of our missions, I thank you.

For losing sleep over my dumb, suicidal self, I thank you.

For never giving up on me even when I wanted to, and cheering me up, I thank you.

For all the smiles that you always flashed… for all the laughs and merry moments that we had… for all the joy that you spread into our lives despite our dire and desperate situation...

 Thank you.

 And I’d say it a thousand times more. But even then, I feel that it’ll never be enough. I regret never being able to say all this when you were around. I regret that that was our last goodbye… and I regret that we couldn’t share one last lazy afternoon under the kotatsu. Even if Mashu came around and scolded us… but she’d join us in our lazy indulgence anyway.

Oh by the way, I gave Goetia one big punch to the face for you and Mashu. I even used my command seals to boost it. At the time, I was just acting on pure emotion. I didn’t know what to do. I just knew I had to live. For you and everybody else that was waiting for me back at home. Our home. Chaldea.

You know, we did mourn. But only for a bit. We knew that you wouldn’t want us to be down like that. You’d tell us to keep our heads held up high, and smile. And so we did. And we still are.

But… I can take a small moment and spare a few tears, right? Even just for a couple minutes on this Christmas night. I can take the time to be weak, right? When I’m not busy trying to be the perfect master for them. Even if it’s just this one line… I can break down, right? I’m so tired… sometimes, I do feel alone even in this happy family of ours. It just isn’t the same without you, Doctor…

Bah! Enough of my sappy sentiments. I’ll continue as we always did. With my held head up high and big, bright smile on our faces. Just like you told us. We’ll continue on as we always did. For as long as we exist, for as long as humanity’s will to survive isn’t dead, and for as long as these broken bones of mine will keep me going… we’ll continue to protect the future.

See you later, Doctor Romantic.

We love you.

 From Gudao Shimazaki and the rest of the Chaldea family.

[ireneinisolation-blog]

3/17 - Disease Anxiety

When I was a kid, probably around eight years old, my neighbor (an older boy) decided it was a great idea to tell me all about Ebola in as much detail as he could think of. Looking back, and with what I know about it now, I’m quite certain he exaggerated - as if a disease like Ebola needs exaggerating! Anyway, I remember being really anxious for a while after learning about it. It made me anxious in a way that I had not needed to deal with previously. It was a fear of being out of control, to have an unseen disease spreading that eats you from the inside out if it gets you. Back then I was scared of other people having it, and I was scared of the possibility that I could get it. I realized as I aged that I was not in the part of the world where I was likely to be exposed to Ebola.

It was years after learning about it though that I realized that that category of anxiety has kept with me. I even have a very specific visualization of this type of anxiety, and I think it can be traced back to the neighbor boy describing this disease to me. In the visual, in my mind’s eye, first I see a wall that is dark red and purple and black. That is my anxiety. And then I try to repress the anxiety. And that is a wall that is creamy white. When I’m feeling anxious in this way, the two images flit back and forth quickly as the anxiety haunts me and my rational brain tries to push it down. (I found out in college that I have synesthesia, hence the visualization.)

Reflecting back, I believe that the reason the anxiety wall appears so filthy is because in my mind it was stained with blood. The (obnoxious) neighbor boy told me of people who got the disease, bleeding, and kept in isolated rooms. I imagined dirty, bloody rooms that to me represented death and hopelessness. Then in my mind I balanced it with the idea of a clean room, it looks soft and the light is warm. It was the visual equivalent of life and hope.

A while passed where I wasn’t just associating these anxiety images with my fear of Ebola (which itself was not something that I have been constantly dwelling on since childhood), but would think of when I saw a very scary movie or heard news of something that was very upsetting. When the world seemed particularly unstable. I associated the images with irrational fear.

It’s surely been at least a decade since I last felt this sense of irrational fear and my mind flitted back and forth between the images of the dirty dark wall and the clean well lit wall. I have grown up to understand how to rationalize danger and compartmentalize doubt.

The spread of coronavirus is the first thing to touch that fear in a very long time. And I think it was as early as early January when news was first emerging from Wuhan when I was overwhelmed by that sense of out of control anxiety again. It was settled again quickly - my rational brain assured me that it was far away, that things were going to be okay for me, that things would be controlled before they reached me or anyone I love. But the anxiety has crept back in as the virus itself crept too.

There is something no doubt about the idea of pandemic that catches our collective consciousness. Hell, there is a reason there are so many movies on this topic.

Since reaching adulthood, I didn’t really imagin that there would be anything that would bring back of visualizations of anxiety or the type of anxiety that they are associated with. I thought that since I grew up and had learned to be rational that there is nothing that could make me feel that way again. I see now how naive I was about the unknowns of the world. We know less than I would like to think that we do, and the world remains scarier than I am willing to admit to my conscious brain.

What blind faith I had in our societies that we would somehow control this virus, that it would just be a blip in the year that was quickly recovered from, I have lost that faith now. My understanding of this life was off before. I can’t say that I have a proper grasp on things now, but I know my understanding before was wrong. But I wonder about the future. When this particularly crappy moment in time has passed - and it will pass - will it seem like a rotten blip? If history tells us anything, it’s that our collective, historical attention span is short. Will it be business as usual in a year’s time? I guess I’ll hope for that. I hope societies will learn from this, but I don’t know what my takeaways should be as an individual. Alternatively, maybe for generations we’ll be telling our children, and they’ll be telling their children’s children about how we survived this terrible time. Ugh. I’m hoping for the former. Hoping that this will be mild enough that our collective ADHD brain will forget about the pain in a few year’s time.

Well I’ve gone on a tangent... my anxiety brain images are back. They are unpleasant. They are a little less involuntary than they were when I was a kid. I understand the anxiety itself better. I don’t think that understanding makes the anxiety itself any better though.

In closing... I’m going to head to bed now. I’ve let my sleeping scheduled fall apart - late to bed, late to rise. I’ve also realized that I am more anxious past dark than in the day time. I’d like to minimize my waking hours when it is dark, so I’m trying to get to bed earlier and wake up earlier. To force myself to feel more optimistic even when there isn’t too much real reason to feel optimistic. Tomorrow, I will get up, and get dressed. I will take a selfie to prove to myself that I did get dressed - it is part of a quarantine photo series that I am working on. I will keep doing things and keep reminding myself that this will end eventually, and there is a whole wide world out there to look forward to on the other side of this. Good night!

[neongenesisimpacts]

Long (but ultimately positive) post about my life recently and a car accident I was in yesterday.

tw for car accidents, hospital, depression, and suicide

So, It's been awhile since I posted stuff here, Or really talked about my life, and I'm not entirely sure what to say. I've been battling my own depression and general feelings of hopelessness/isolationment about the way my life has been recently. while I've come far, On more than one occasion I've stood on the precipice of a dangerous situation where I seriously contemplated doing something I'm happy I shouldn't. I have made a lot of progress with myself, but I would be lying if I didn't say I have days where I feel like I'm not going to make it, and It makes me feel really guilty.

Yesterday, on a very wet and rainy afternoon, I was nearing the last leg of my journey from St. Louis to Atlanta when the rain become almost unbearable to drive through. It would become heavy in fits and starts, and while some times it would let up enough to see outside the window, at other moments, the rain was hard enough that I couldn't see anything. I was currently in the left lane passing a lot of slower traffic, and after feeling my car slip twice after going over a couple of particularly slick bridges, I decided I had enough, and threw on my hazards before getting into the right lane. I was slowing down to 45 miles an hour when I came up on a large puddle before a bridge, and I couldn't help but think "fuck, this is the bridge that's going to do me in, isn't it?" I put my hands firmly on the steering wheel and my foot down, ready for the car to shake a bit as it passed on to the bridge. I wasn't ready for what happened next.

Out of everything I've ever done, from spinning airplanes and causing them to corkscrew towards the ground to biking in traffic on busy roads without lights and a helmet, there has never been anything scarier than what happened next. Almost immedieately, my car began to swing violently to the left, and out of pure instinct, my foot went for the brake as I panicked and tried to keep my car careening into traffic. But it was too late. My heart, already beating beyond commprehension, dropped when I saw the truck approaching me from my right, moving with the rest of the traffic that had been behind me. I closed my eyes and thought "this will be the end." And just braced myself for the impact that was coming. When it hit, the car was spun in the other direction before bounding off the guardrail and coming to a complete stop perpendicular to traffic with a trail of debris in its wake. 

When I finally realized everything, I began to panic. My head pain was acute, I felt a sharp pain coming from my arm and legs, and I was shaking violently. At first I tried to ask my friends, @cardigans-and-bowties and @42dicks (who would talk with me throughout the entire accident and owe a lot to) to call the police for me, as I found myself quickly becoming unable to move, but I managed to call the police before the pain became too hard to fight on my own. The person I hit, a tow truck driver who had blown a tire down the road, came to make sure I was okay before going back to his vehicle and calling the police. For all the anger and frustration he could have had against me, after helping me, I never saw him again.

It was only three minutes before police and quickly EMS arrived, and while I couldn't move my head, I could see that the emerrgency response team was at least four cars deep. Everything happened so fast. They strapped me to a long board and gave me a head and neck brace before being forced to carry me to an ambulance, quite possibly one of the most surreal experiences of my entire life. All the while I could feel the rain falling and the sky opening up to the light gray that came with the passing of a storm. The light was beginning to come through.

I feel bad, like I let down so many people who believed in my safe drive to Atlanta. I worried about my mom, who was already in the hospital with my grandfather, would react to hearing that her daughter had been in an accident. I worried about the growing mass of police and EMT officers and praying that the people I worked with would be nice enough to respect my identity (they were). I worried about Bekah and M whom I left hanging for details after emergency personnel arrived. I worried about getting to and from my job, which is in a place inaccessible by public transport, and I worried about myself. I was so incredibly scared. I'd never been on a stretcher before, much less been at a point where I had to be given braces and taken by ambulance to a hospital. It was all so overwhelming and hard, and I could do nothing except pray that I would recover and be incredibly thankful that I was the only one driving and the only one hurt. 

But, in retrospect, what stands out to me most is my overwhelming desire to live. Despite everything that's happened to me and my fluctuating mental health, being carried away on a stretcher and looking towards the eyes of God, I wanted nothing more than to just enjoy life for a little longer. And I surprised myself at how I really enjoy being alive. I want to hang on to that feeling, and I'm going to do my best to let it inspire me to keep moving on into the days ahead. I've said this a lot, but I mean it more now than I ever have in my entire life: I want to live. I want nothing more than to so badly live and enjoy life and to make the most out of the time I've been given.

My hospital stay was short. I was given a CT scan and released after the results were good. I'm walking away with what could have been a near death accident with only a headache and numerous aches and pains and I'm so grateful that I'm here to see another day. No matter. the challenges that I have to face in the next few months, I know that I'm going to get through them. I'm going to be okay.

Thank you to everyone who cared about me. I'm not going to forget it.

[theconservativebrief]

Bodies have limits, and dance kicks at them, trying to make the impossible look easy. The sounds of that effort are often masked by music, so it’s easy at times to forget the physicality of the dancers — to miss the thuds, the squeaks of sweaty skin skidding on the floor, the gasping and panting for breath.

Suspiria foregrounds that corporeality, mixing it with elements of the inexplicable, and the result is horrifying, maddening, transfixing, transcendent. It’s the most ambitious and unsettling and confounding and cathartic movie I’ve seen this year, with some of the most disturbing images I’ve ever seen in a movie, at once bone-cracking body horror par excellence, meditation on women’s power and history, tale of ancient occultish matricide, and worthy homage to the decades-old movie that inspired it.

It resists efforts at making “sense,” though there are plenty of keys strewn throughout to unlock its many secrets. But you’ll want to make sense of it anyhow.

Inspired by Dario Argento’s 1977 film by the same name — which, in turn, was inspired by Thomas De Quincey’s opium-fueled 1845 essay Suspiria de Profundis — this incarnation of Suspiria, directed by Luca Guadagnino (Call Me By Your Name), feels like new flesh molded around old bones and lit on fire.

Less remake, more regeneration, Guadagnino’s Suspiria retains its predecessor’s setting and setup — a prestigious German dance school run by a shadowy coven — but digs its hooks into elements that Argento’s film floated past. The result is something much scarier, more chilling, more menacing, and absolutely, wholly its own.

The ladies of the company at dinner. Amazon Studios

Guadagnino decided in concert with screenwriter David Kajganich (with whom he worked on 2015’s A Bigger Splash) to set his film in 1977, the same year Argento’s film was released. It begins when Patricia (Chloë Grace Moretz), shaking and disturbed, stumbles into the office of her psychiatrist Dr. Jozef Klemperer (played by “Lutz Ebersdorf,” but actually Tilda Swinton under convincing layers of prosthetics and cosmetics).

Patricia tells Dr. Klemperer that the Markos Dance Academy, where she has been studying, is run by a coven of witches, and leaves behind a satchel of her journals, in which she’s scribbled about the “Three Mothers”: Mater Suspiriorum (Mother of Sighs), Mater Tenebrarum (Mother of Darkness), and Mater Lachrymarum (Mother of Tears). Klemperer is sure Patricia is just delusional.

Then Patricia disappears. And Klemperer, growing suspicious, decides to investigate what’s happening at Markos.

The day following Patricia’s visit, ingenue Susie Bannion (Dakota Johnson) arrives from the Midwest to study at the famed German dance school and live in its dormitories with the other dancers, as in Argento’s original film. She meets Sara (Mia Goth), a wealthy student who was close to Patricia and is devastated by her disappearance.

Excited at first to be among her dancing idols, Susie soon realizes that something not quite right is going on, and the more she digs, the closer she gets to danger.

But while the original film was about Susie (Suzy, in Argento’s version) trying to escape the clutches of the dance mistresses in a ballet school, this is something much different. In this film, the dance company performs contemporary dance. It has moved from Freiburg to Berlin, a city that in 1977 was divided by a wall between the East and the West, as well as between older Germans who wished to forget what had happened only decades earlier during the War and younger Germans who insisted it must be remembered.

Susie’s arrival coincides with the German Autumn, when a series of terror attacks throughout the year culminated in several key events: The Red Army Faction kidnapped and murdered Hanns Martin Schleyer, head of the country’s main business association; three members of the Baader-Meinhof group died by suicide in prison; and a Lufthansa passenger jet was liberated days after being hijacked on the tarmac in Mogadishu. The country was on high alert.

Tilda Swinton in Suspiria. Amazon Studios

This all forms the backdrop of Suspiria, the swirling chaos spotted in the background on radios and TV news broadcasts. In the foreground is Susie’s integration into the academy, headed by the mysterious Madame Blanc (Tilda Swinton again), with whom Susie — who was raised in a Mennonite community in Ohio — has been quietly obsessed for years, watching films of the company’s dances so many times that she knows the parts by heart already.

The school is led by a series of matrons and populated by lithe young dancers, all trained to perform Blanc’s angular, powerful form of dance. And though the young woman is mostly untrained, Madame Blanc spots Susie’s talent instantly.

That becomes important when Olga (Elena Fokina), incensed at Madame Blanc’s suggestion that Patricia didn’t disappear, but left the academy to join the RAF, storms out of the academy. Blanc permits Susie to fill Olga’s spot in an upcoming production and — touching her gently — imbues her with some kind of preternatural power of dance that also, in a (literal) twist, turns out to be Olga’s undoing.

That’s merely where Susie’s evolution begins. And where Argento’s film had the character trying to escape, Guadagnino’s does anything but that. Instead, Susie is drawn deeper into what’s going on at Markos, and Suspiria builds nightmarishly, exploding into a wild, blood-soaked climax that solves few mysteries — but hints at many others.

Suspiria is more about dream logic than real logic, more web than timeline. That it starts the year Argento’s film was released feels right: The spirit that animates that one feels reborn in this one which, in a sense, is its point — a spirit of rebellion and subversion against authoritarian powers, particularly patriarchal ones. Female energy and crafty women working in secret, it suggests, are responsible for keeping the world’s creative heart beating, even while skirmishes and wars and insurrections fight to beat it down.

That its name and eventually its mythology are tied up with the idea of “supirium” makes sense, then — though in Latin the words “suspirium” (sighs or forceful breaths) and “spiritus” (the spirit) are separate, for most of ancient times the concepts of breath and spirit, or life force, were tied up together.

The same word is used for both throughout the Bible, for instance, in both Hebrew and Greek. Concepts like prana and qi (or chi) are also linked to both breath and spirit or life force. Breath starts life, and it ends when the breath is gone.

The Markos company performs. Amazon Studios

In Suspiria that life-giving force is carried by women, particularly by the Three Mothers of Sighs, Darkness, and Tears, and by those who serve them — including in the dance academy. So the film is rife with symbolism about nationalism (the dance the Markos group is performing is one that Blanc created in the wake of the war, meaningfully called “Volk,” or “people”), about women’s power against men (who in this film are often at the mercy of the dance academy mistresses once they step in its doors), and — perhaps most troublingly — about the complexity of that power yielded by women against one another.

And so I agree with other critics that I would have liked to have seen a Suspiria written and directed by a woman who was as deeply affected by the story as Guadagnino clearly was, and as willing to get tangled up in it and not try to untie it all. Perhaps we’ll get that version in the future.

In the meantime, though, it’s impossible to ignore how skillfully Guadagnino dove into the material and came up with something all his own. Argento’s version of the story is noted not so much for its storytelling — which can be lightweight and campy at times — as for its visual style, which pulses with bright and bold colors, wild lighting, and surreal camera angles.

Guadagnino largely sidesteps those for most of the movie, rendering a muted Berlin in greys and browns, and when he finally slips into Argento’s visual style it’s all the more terrifying by contrast. Argento enlisted the Italian band Goblin for his film’s iconic soundtrack; Guadagnino brought in Radiohead’s Thom Yorke, who delivers an eerie score.

And by leaving lots of plot threads tangled and unexplained, this Suspiria leaves us with far more unease. Dance and horror became allies long ago, when early ballets in the courts of kings and queens often involved stories about witches and deities, werewolves and spirits. Many of the most famous ballets in repertoire today are, essentially, horror stories — about broken-hearted swan-women, about princes imprisoned in wooden dolls, about women dancing men or themselves to death.

Dakota Johnson in Suspiria. Amazon Studios

In movies like Black Swan, filmmakers cannily turn the implied horror of these stories into horror films about women’s bodies and the history of dance, the pain and discomfort experienced en route to flawless performance, the exacting and sometimes abusive choreographers, and the rules that artists want and need to break.

That the new Suspiria is set among a contemporary dance troupe in a Berlin recovering from a war, grasped by an imposed rule, cowering from terror attacks, and grappling with its own sordid history makes for a perfect place to explore those same motifs.

And by its enigmatic end, Suspiria is troubling and grim and yet strangely mirthful, having opened wounds without much interest in closing them. This is not a film you untangle; it’s a movie you feel. That will drive some mad. For others, it will feel something like ecstasy.

Suspiria opens in theaters on October 26.

Original Source -> Suspiria reimagines a cult classic as a bone-cracking tale of women, power, and pain

via The Conservative Brief

[ronaldmrashid]

The Key To Living Longer: Fear Being Alone Far More Than Going Broke

I’ve always told my wife that if all goes to hell, at least we’ll still have each other. After all, we met during college when neither of us had any money. We were happy just spending time together between classes in the Sunken Gardens at The College of William & Mary. Having to start over with nothing wouldn’t be so bad.

I’m convinced part of the reason why some couples choose to have so many children despite the cost, the stress, and the time commitment is because they too, fear being alone one day. Having nobody visit you in the hospital when sick is depressing. Having to play children’s games at a nursing home is no way to live out your remaining years.

For me, being alone is far scarier than going broke. When you lose someone, there’s no guarantee you’ll ever be able to find someone as good. But if you lose all your money, there’s a good chance you’ll recover through some ingenuity and hustle. 

The Risk Of Social Isolation

I truly believe the key to living longer is having someone to love, something to do, and something to look forward to. Having close personal relationships and a strong community to interact with are the top findings why certain communities have longer lifespans than others. Check out the chart from Susan Pinker’s TED Talk.

Living to 100 and beyond. Click to watch the Ted talk

I’m thankful for all the detailed comments left on Financial Samurai, even the unpleasant ones, because they share windows into different people’s souls and promotes new topics of discussion.

Here’s a comment left by JD on my uncontroversial post entitled, Things Worth Spending Max Money On For A Better Life that is incredibly insightful about why someone people are alone. If you read the post, you know it simply provides suggestions, not commandments, on where you might want to pay a premium to live a better life.

Why not just put anything down? Couldn’t disagree more. With this advice you’d go from frugal to broke in no time at all. You could justify buying anything and everything.

Mattress at the top? My mother was conned into buying a pricey new one by her brother. When you’re old and in pain the bed you’re lying upon in immaterial. I’ve tried it from time to time. It’s okay but not worth $1,000+ but when I’m tired I can sleep anywhere on anything. The people pushing beds are making killings on TV because people are foolish to believe their hype.

Home Appliances & Home Theater systems are Scams. They’re built cheaply designed to break down–All of em! The more money you pump into them doesn’t guarantee quality or quality or longevity anymore. A crap movie is still a crap movie regardless of how big the screen or high the resolution. Maybe you’d like to push Kueric coffee machines too. Fear and Status sell. Means nothing.

Dental Care is overrated and relies upon Fear to sell. A magical sonic toothbrush? Really? They pay you a few bucks to hype this? Just basic brushing, a minimum of once a day is all that’s needed. Even flossing has been proven to be excessive if not dangerous.

Work clothes & shoes – Hint: if you’re Retired (i.e. Not Working!) it matters not! Especially if you’re not a socialite and enjoy doing things by yourself.

Food – Some of us Enjoy the Simple pleasures of Simple food. I’m surprised you’re not hyping caviar here as well! Junk food is only bad for you if you thrive on it excessively and make meals of it. For some of us it’s what makes life worth living.

Car Safety is another one of those things relying on Fear to scare people into shelling out money. Once upon a time frugal sites said the same thing. All cars made today are basically safe but it is the Drivers behind the wheels one must watch out for. You’re safer driving a stripped-down basic car than one loaded with electronics so you drive while watching a DVD and yelling on a phone while studying a schematic of your car!

Such detailed intentional objection. I figured there must be more to JD’s story so I asked him to share more about himself, and he did.

I’m frugal, and the real deal. I’m financially independent with a high net worth. I’m also not a hypocrite. The simple things in life are free and once you get used to them, luxury living is rather petty and obviously to impress the masses. Furthermore, everything I’ve typed up there is true and I can back each and every statement up.

I’m not negative, I’m real and honest. I’ve also debated people to death and I don’t intend to waste my time doing so online again. Everyone lives in their own realities with their own priorities, petty as they may be. It’s why my personal relationships have never worked out. My own preferences have been exotic and queer to most people at times. I’ve turned down steaks for Big Macs, for instance. Because they taste better to me.

If you want me to reiterate a few. Planned Obsolescence pretty much wipes out the need to buy “the biggest, best, most popular, and coolest” of appliances (in conjunction with the “bathtub” curve regarding breakdowns). A $300 refrigerator will last as long, if not longer than a $3,000 one with a ridiculous touch-screen and wi-fi system, and certainly require less maintenance and make life.  Easier for you. Oh, sorry, no bragging rights with an Ordinary refrig.

That’s what it’s all about: Status; impressing the guy next door. Maybe you need such recognition, but I do not. The bottom line is that I saved $2,700 which is more money in the bank making interest. Plus, I’m not pulling my hair out over a touch screen that’s malfunctioning and a unit that needs software updates etc. I could extend this analogy to include all manner of modern “smart” tech which makes live miserable in the long-run, including fancy thermostats which need their batteries replaced constantly and maybe even recalibration. All for Look At Me I’m Better Than You gratification, and a cumulative drop in wallet dough. If you’re secure in Yourself you care not about appearances to project upon others. You are indeed Comfortable and truly at peace. I’ve splurged in the past and I almost invariably feel guilty afterwards. Because the outcome simply was never worth it. Maybe I just need a shrink.

Frankly, I’ve found this website a disappointment. Your early articles were generally good, but you’ve changed over the years. Perhaps this wife of yours has had an influence on your psyche. It’s why I’m not married. If you want real financial know-how, checkout Bell’s Living Stingy blog. Not 100% in agreement of course but I do tend to agree mostly with his lifestyle (minus the BMWs and his sometimes quirky politics).

Although JD said a lot of unflattering things about me and this site, it’s good he followed up with details about his beliefs. Here are some of my observations:

1) There may be some self-esteem issues because he thinks having a nice TV, refrigerator, bath tub and wi-fi system is for showing off to your neighbors instead of for the owner’s personal satisfaction. I’m not sure how our neighbors will ever know about our nice equipment unless we invite them over to a bath tub or online gaming party.

2) Guilt for spending money despite having a high net worth. Many of us have this problem because part of the reason why we got to a high net worth is by being frugal. Old habits are hard to quit.

3) JD is alone. By comparing things with others, bringing up my wife, his shrink, and his failed relationships, it seems he either enjoys being alone or desperately wants to find someone.

How Not To Be Alone

If you want to live longer and happier, then it’s probably beneficial to find someone to go through life with according to the research. To be loved and accepted is all we can ever ask. Although there is no guarantee of finding someone, we can at least improve our odds by doing some of the following:

1) Ask whether you’d be happy hanging out with yourself for hours. Pretend you’re stuck for five hours at an airport due to a computer system malfunction. Would you enjoy your company? Or would you not be able to stand yourself? The airport test is one of the key determinants every applicant must pass when applying for a job that demands rigorous work hours and plenty of travel.

2) Find ways to look at the positive. JD decided to look at my post as an offense to his frugality. Even though my post wasn’t forced upon him or cost him anything to read, he got triggered by my suggestions. Meanwhile, most other people decided to see the positives of the post and share some of the things they value the most. The more you can see the good in things, the more people will start seeing the good in you.

3) Turn on your grateful switch. Whenever I sprain my ankle, I’m thankful I didn’t break my ankle. Whenever my wife is feeling tired after a long night, she is thankful she has a son to be tired for. In the very simplest terms, if we can be grateful for just being alive, our world will change for the better.

4) Smile. Nobody can resist a big toothy smile. Strangers will automatically smile back at you for no reason. A smile is like a powerful magnet that draws people to you. The next time you’re zooming down fresh powder, dancing to your favorite tune, or riding a jet ski, notice how sore your cheek muscles get after the session is over. It’s because you’ve been smiling nonstop without anybody noticing. The more you can smile, the happier and healthier you will feel.

5) Focus on solutions. Problem solvers don’t just accept a bad scenario, they find a way to go around the wall. There is no greater turn-off than the person who complains why life isn’t fair and then sits on their ass all day. The water cooler gossipers at work invariably are the first ones fired. One of the reasons why blogs have taken off is because journalists only report the news, while bloggers not only share the news but also offer actionable steps. When you can build some credibility by consistently doing what you say, attracting others is an inevitability.

6) Take care of your mental and physical health. Nobody will love you if you can’t love yourself. Loving yourself starts with taking care of your mental and physical well-being. You don’t have to look like a swimsuit model or have the mind of the Dalai Lama, you just have to consistently work at reaching your healthiest potential. Stay active. Keep an open mind. Read voraciously. Practice what you’ve learned. Forgive yourself and others.

7) The more people you meet, the higher your chances. Meeting someone you can connect with is a numbers game. Sharing a common interest is the easiest catalyst to start a meaningful relationship. I have one friend who is always on a date despite not being particularly attractive. He’s not afraid to ask every person he meets for their contact information because he’s not afraid of rejection.

8) Stay hygienic. For the love of God, shower, wash your face, brush your teeth, and floss no matter what JD says about not buying a Sonicare tooth brush! If you smell and are dirty, nobody will want to come close to you, let alone kiss you. Ask your friend(s) if you smell, because some people do and have no idea. Let your natural pheromones attract other people in ways that only science can explain.

9) Develop emotional intelligence. If you’re clueless, it’s dangerous because you may not know you’re clueless. This is also called the Dunning-Krueger effect. An emotionally intelligent person understands another person’s viewpoint and works to socialize in a manner that’s agreeable. An example of an emotionally unintelligent person is one who asks things like, “can I pick your brain” without first developing a relationship or providing something of value. Communication skills are key to a high EI.

10) Be generous and kind. Showing generosity and kindness is one thing if you have everything. Showing generosity and kindness when you have nothing is next level humanity. A woman by the name of Kate McClure raised over $360,000 for a homeless man through a GoFundMe campaign after she ran out of gas on an interstate in Philadelphia. Johnny Bobbitt Jr., walked a few blocks and bought her some with his last $20 and asked for nothing in return. Johnny has a second chance in life after drugs and alcohol derailed his plans.

We Are Programmed For Companionship

Having a lot of money is pointless if you have nobody to share it with. During my days in finance, I met plenty of wealthy, but lonely folks who had let their desire for wealth consume them. Every single one of them regretted working so much in their 20s and 30s, and not working more at finding someone they could come home to.

There’s no denying that luck plays a role in finding a companion. But I’m certain we can all do more to increase our chances at finding someone if that’s what we want.

Relationships are hard to maintain because we tend to take each other for granted. Marriage is constantly a work in progress. But I say it is better to have loved than to never have loved at all.

Related:

The Average Net Worth For The Above Average Couple

Marrying Your Equal Is Better Than Marrying Rich

Financial Dependence Is The Worst: Why Each Spouse Needs Their Own Bank Account

Readers, why do you think some people remain alone? What are some other ways to improve our chances of finding the one? You can read more of JD’s comments on love and life in the post, The Best Financial Move I Made Is Something Everyone Can Do. They are fascinating to me because they are the opposite of my beliefs. 

https://www.financialsamurai.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/TheKeyToLivingLonger_Master.mp3

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